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A book to house my Daily Flash Fiction entries. |
Lilia loved the old bookstore. It smelled of old paper and worn leather, a comforting escape from the city's chaos. Wednesdays were best when Mr. Finch, the kindly owner, let her help out. But this Wednesday was different. "Lilia, did you see a young gentleman asking about first-edition Hemingways?" Mr. Finch asked. Lilia did. And as strange as it sounded, she knew the pale boy wasn't a regular customer. His smile was too wide, his eyes too hungry. "Can't say I have, Mr. Finch," she'd lied, sending him towards the musty romance section. Now, Lilia crouched behind a stack of biographies. She heard Mr. Finch's sigh of disappointment, then footsteps drawing close. A chilling whisper reached her, "Now, just where might a clever girl hide?" A frantic glance around… there! A narrow gap between the shelf and the wall. She squeezed in, heart pounding. Footsteps paused inches away. Silence. Then a mutter, "Must be imagining things." Relief washed over her as the footsteps faded. Mr. Finch found her moments later, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "Lilia, I have the strangest feeling you didn't like that young man." "Tell them I'm not here," she blurted out. Mr. Finch raised an eyebrow. She could feel the tale, the strange boy and a secret the old books held, but the words wouldn't come. Mr. Finch patted her shoulder. "Best get back to those shelves, my dear. And if you see any more odd customers, do let an old man know." WORD COUNT: 247 Words WRITTEN FOR: "Winner for 2/23 and prompt for 2/24"  PROMPT: Write a story that includes the line: “Tell them I’m not here.” |
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